


Closer to Real

by in_motu_proprio



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Drug Use, Established Relationship, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, friends - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:41:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24428923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_motu_proprio/pseuds/in_motu_proprio
Summary: One night Clint says something to Natasha she just can't get off her mind.  He wants to see the real her in bed not what she thinks he want to see.This day in the life of Natasha and Clint takes place two years after she escaped the Red Room.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 10
Kudos: 40





	Closer to Real

“You don’t have to do all that,” Clint said quietly one night while they lay in bed together. 

“… do what,” Natasha asked looking up from where she was nestled in against his chest. 

“Listen, the sex was amazing, you always are,” he leaned in to kiss her and Natasha thought for a moment this was the prelude to a breakup. But to break up you had to be together and they weren’t together. Not really. Clint and Natasha just fell into bed together sometimes and it happened to be good enough to repeat. “But all the porn moaning… you don’t have to. I appreciate it as a stroke to my ego, but I just don’t think that’s actually you. And,” he laced an arm around her taut frame, “I’d rather have the real you any day.” 

Natasha didn’t think that was true but blushed all the same, looking away when he leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Are you saying I’m too loud,” Natasha asked 

“No.. hell, if you were a screamer I’d say go for it. But you’re not.” Clint’s hand ran down her side under the covers, stroking his fingers over a scar. “I get it… it’s easier to put on a face than face ourselves sometimes.” He kissed her temple and pulled her tight, not giving Natasha an inch to get away. “When you’re ready, you’ll show me,” Clint assured her. 

Natasha couldn’t sleep that night worried about her sex noises. It occurred to her that Clint was right about some of it but didn’t know the whole story. Natasha looked at him, thinking about smothering him for just a moment before she leaned in to kiss the wrinkles in his forehead. Clint was dreaming, bless him. Meanwhile she got zero sleep because of his words and was due to be a cranky bitch the next morning. 

By light of day, though, Clint was waking up with a smile and she just didn’t have the heart to pass off her own grumpiness onto him. At least not until she got him in the sparring ring. They were due to office today for some debriefing and training. Clint was fine with the training but the debrief seemed to bore him already. “I can make breakfast if you want to shower first,” Clint told Natasha. “Just let me get in there for a minute before you do.” With a slightly morning breathy kiss, Clint climbed out of bed, bending to pick up last night’s brief’s and pull them on. 

“Those are cute,” Natasha teased. 

“Cute?” Clint looked down at his underwear, slightly pink from being washed in with too much purple stuff. 

“Cute.” Natasha gave him a smack on the ass as he walked past, getting a genuine laugh out of Clint.

Left alone, Natasha laid back in bed, pulling the covers up over her head as she stretched out in a starfish in the middle of the bed. It was a nice bed, but then it paid for SHIELD agents to get a good night sleep. Clint came out to find her still under the covers like a cat chasing a toy and laughed, reaching down to grab both her ankles and squeeze. “Go shower. I don’t want to be late.” Clint got to try out a new bow today so he was excited. 

“… do you remember your dreams,” Natasha asked him as he headed toward the door. She’d stuck her head out from under the covers, hair a mess. 

“Like last night’s?” He shook his head no, frowning. “I know they were mixed but I couldn’t tell you anything specific,” Clint told her. “Why?” 

“You looked sad.” 

“I’m not,,” Clint assured her. “Eggs and bacon good for you,” he asked as he paused in the doorway looking back at her. 

“Got any fruit?” 

“Apples,” he told her. “Maybe a peach somewhere canned.” 

“Add an apple to that breakfast and it sounds good.” She sat up letting the covers drop to her waist mostly to see Clint stare at her bare breasts a moment as he got out the door. She liked to make him stare. Breasts made men stupid and Clint was no exception, almost walking into the door as he exited, making Natasha genuinely smile. She adored what an idiot he could be sometimes. 

When she finished her shower, Natasha was greeted by eggs, bacon, and a cut up apple as promised along with some toast and jam. Really it was a good showing for Clint whose fridge rarely had food that was still edible in it. They ate in relative quiet, chewing as Clint flipped through the paper. “Bet this was us,” Clint said tapping on the front page of the paper. There was a story about a Russian diplomat going down due to an allergy. 

“The Cold War is over,” Natasha said with a half a smile behind her mug of coffee. Clint made a disbelieving noise in his throat and shook his head. “What, comrade,” Natasha asked in her best Russian accent. 

“Ohhhh talk Russian to me,” Clint teased leaning over to steal a slice of her bacon just because he could. 

“I’m not your dancing monkey,” Natasha told him in Russian, leaning in to tap him on the tip of the nose. “Your libido will have to wait,” she continued. Clint smirked. He spoke Russian well enough to know what she was saying and he leaned in to kiss her still. Clint loved her and she loved him but it was unspoken, something they didn’t acknowledge because it could make things that much harder out in the field. So they remained partners who sometimes slept together. 

The drive into work was uneventful and they split up as soon as they got there, both having different places to be. But they met at the sparring ring just before lunch, both ready to go a few rounds. They were equally matched so it was nice to be able to really let go and let someone have it. The sparing ring was one of the few places Natasha was able to do that. Though she thought about Clint’s comment on her behavior in bed. That ought to be a place she could be free, especially with him. Clint was a safe man one of only a handful that Natasha trusted. 

They went round for round against each other trading off points until things got boring and Clint sacrificed himself just to finish it off. “You’re giving up,” Natasha asked. 

“I’m hungry,” Clint told her honestly his stomach letting out a huge growl almost on command. “And you aren’t going to give in,” he pointed out. 

“You’re right about that,” Natasha told him as she roundhouse kicked him in the chest, scoring the final point and ending their little games. “Ok,” she asked looming over him where he fell dramatically on his back. “Now who’s playing up,” she teased feeling a little bit of a flush at bringing up so intimate a conversation in an environment like this. 

“Oh me,” Clint said holding out his hand so she would help him up. “By and far me. You’re your most you in the sparring ring,” Clint told her honestly, though quietly. “Let’s get lunch or I may devour your arm.” 

Clint escorted her to the SHIELD cafeteria, both of them picking up trays to pile with goodies. For most of her formative years, Natasha had lived in fear of starving. The Red Room was not big on overfeeding the livestock and she had gone to bed with an empty stomach often as a child. It was hard to resist over eating when she was left to her own devices, but mostly she kept it between the rails. Sex, food, was there any area of her that the Red Room hadn’t touched, hadn’t tainted? 

He found them a table in the corner, something private that said ‘fuck off’ to anyone attempting to come near. The only person brave enough to approach them was Coulson and he had his lunch tray full too. Clearly it was a good day at the office if Coulson could break for lunch with them. “Have you seen it yet,” Coulson asked Clint and Natasha sighed a little, happy for a moment’s peace. They were gearing up to talk about Clint’s new piece, bow with retractable arms. She sat back and ate quietly as they talked, taking it all in but not caring to comment until she saw the new bow in action. 

“… we have half a squadron ready to try you out, with boffer arrows of course.” Boffers were arrows with blunt tips that bounce off body armor but leave a little X where the point of contact is made. Clint designed them himself and she’d seen him finishing up a new set just last week. 

“What do you say, Nat? Want to take on half a squadron?” 

If she was honest with herself it sounded like fun, fighting with Clint as he tested out his new weapon. He was always so joyful when he got a new toy and Natasha liked being around him when he was smiling. “If I must,” she waved her hand in a circle, sighing heavily as though put upon. 

“Good,” He bumped her knee under the table with his and sat back in his seat. “Wouldn’t be the same kickin’ guys’ asses without you.” 

“It’s why you keep me around.” 

“One of many reasons,” Clint told her before turning to Coulson to ask who’d tested out his bow before him. 

“No one. The nerds are excited to watch and analyze what you’ve got with the new weapon.” Coulson talked about the team who’d designed the bow for awhile, letting Clint know he was part of lore for them. It would be the first time most of them got to meet Clint and Natasha was interested to see how that went. In social situations usually Clint found one person to talk to off in a corner somewhere, typically Natasha. It would be interesting. 

By the time they were done with lunch, both were stuffed and ready to debrief with Coulson over their last mission. It had gone relatively well so they didn’t need to spend much time on it, just enough to fill out Coulson’s paperwork before they got to hit the mats again. This time, though, with weapons. Natasha picked a set of dull knives along with her usual kit while Clint was still working on getting the bow out of the hands of its creator so he could play. It was cute, like a puppy being teased with a bone. Clint wanted to snatch the weapon so badly but he was playing nice. It was endearing and Natasha tried not to stare while she flipped around the knives and got a feeling for them. 

The new bow turned out to be fantastic and Clint couldn’t stop smiling the whole time. Well, not smiling, smiling. It was more of a look he got, lips upturned just a hair, eyes soft around the edges and crinkly. He was happy fighting these people and she was happy to be at his side. Unbidden, his words from last night popped into her head: _You don’t have to do all that._ Why it occurred to her now she had no idea, but that was how the brain worked, wasn’t it? She took down three guys with one set of moves, allowing them to get out of her way before she went after the fourth guy with her knives. _You’re your most you in the sparring ring._ How could she translate one into the other? 

It wasn’t like their sex life was bad, quite the contrary. He’d never left her wanting and until now she’d thought he was attracted to how vocal she was in bed. Apparently not though. Natasha sliced across a man’s throat and stepped over his body in her and Clint’s advancement, grateful for no blood this time. “Left,” Natasha urged Clint as he swung around ready to take off someone’s head. He managed to just about do it to a woman advancing on him from the left that Natasha had pointed out. 

“Thanks.” They went back to back and she was reminded of how they tended to sleep. Not one big spoon and another little spoon, but back-to-back in the middle of the bed always having each other’s six. 

“Watch your three.” Clint let loose a volley of arrows without even looking, trusting her and his peripheral vision as he took down two guys advancing on them. She liked that he did that, that he trusted her like that. Perhaps she should trust him when he said her reactions in bed weren’t genuine. What was, then, she wondered as she slid between a man’s legs and came up behind to stab him in the kidney. 

Soon she looked around to see that they’d downed all the other agents and were lone survivors, so to speak. “Sim’s over,” Coulson said over the speaker. “Nice work. Everyone. Report to medical if necessary, grab some protein, and debrief.” 

Clint gave Natasha a smile, a real one, as he flipped his bow into a staff then back a couple of times just because he could. “It’s cool.” 

“Yeah, it’s cool,” Natasha said with a roll of her eyes. 

The nerds as Coulson called them, came rolling in moments later to ask Clint everything and anything they could think of about the bow. Natasha didn’t fail to notice one of the female agents brought Clint a protein bar. No one brought her anything, but Natasha didn’t expect that. 

She watched as a couple of the team that had worked on Clint’s bow flirted with him. Bless him though he didn’t seem to recognize it or acknowledge it. When they finally got a moment alone after the team had cleared out with promises of bringing Clint back the bow after some minor adjustments, he handed her something. It took Natasha a minute to realize that he’d saved half his protein bar for her. “Maybe you’re not so horrible,” she deadpanned.

“No, I’m terrible,” he told her with a bump of his shoulder to hers. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.” It had been a long day already and if they stuck around they’d get drug into something, no doubt. That was just how it worked around here. The good thing was that you never had to be idle if you didn’t want to. The bad thing was you could never be idle if you wanted to. They headed for the car after gathering up their things, not caring that people saw them coming and going in the same vehicle. Let them talk. Or let them try, Natasha thought. She had thick skin and Clint would kick anyone’s ass who talked shit about her on principle. 

“You wanna drive,” Clint asked Natasha. “I need to ice my shoulder.” Normally he’d have done it on base but it was clear that Clint had wanted to go home. 

“You ok,” Natasha asked.

“Just tweaked it. It’ll be fine,” Clint told her. Clint tweaking his back was nothing new. He might be strong as an ox with a back and shoulders out of a painting, but he was in pain regularly. She was one of the only people who knew about that. Clint was rather guarded about the whole thing. She watched him sit back against the large ice pack he’d smuggled out, adjusting the mirrors and seat for herself. “Want to drive through somewhere for dinner,” he asked her not feeling like cooking about 99.9% of the time. Clint wasn’t a bad cook, he’d made stuff for her in the past, he just didn’t like doing it. 

“Sure. Burgers?” It was something they could agree on. Well, something they both always had a taste for. 

“Yeah, I could do a burger.” 

They drove to one of their favorite places because it had a little car park where you could wait for your food and have some snacks. 

There were endless fry baskets with dozens of toppings to choose from which they shared in the warmth of the car, waiting for their burgers to be done while the rain kicked up outside. “… how’s the shoulder,” Natasha asked with a nod to the glove compartment. “Don’t forget you’ve got your pills in there if you need them.” 

“It’s not bad,” he told her. “I’ll recover.” She’d offer him a massage later on tonight, but for now all she could do was nod and watch him devour the fries. That he had an appetite was a good sign. Clint without the will to eat was a sad thing indeed.

Their girl came a few minutes later with their paper bagged food, now half soaked from the rain. Clint didn’t complain as he accepted it into his lap and tipped the girl out his side so Natasha didn’t get wet. She appreciated the small gestures and they almost made her think she could do this, this becoming a new person thing. He was just so sickeningly sincere in his behavior she couldn’t help but trust him. If Clint ended up double crossing her she didn’t think she could ever trust anyone again. This man was the foundation of her ability to build trust. Sometimes she wondered if he knew that, if he understood what he meant to her. 

She navigated them home in the rain, watching as Clint fished around in the backseat of the car. “I swear… it’s … somewhere down here,” Clint grunted as he stretched and twisted at the stoplight. 

“What are you looking for?” 

“Aha!” He popped out with a beat up old tan umbrella, handing it to the still driving Natasha. “For when we get out.” 

“Get your seatbelt back on,” Natasha shot back, setting the umbrella on the dash above the wheel. “And… thank you.” 

Clint nodded and tucked the food up under his hoodie in an attempt to keep it dry on their way in. Natasha found a decent parking spot close to the front of Clint’s building, cutting off the ignition and sitting in silence for a moment. All there was there in the car was the sound of heartbeats and rain. She took a mental snapshot of the moment before getting out, popping that tan umbrella open and running around to the other side of the car to share it with Clint.

“You’ll get wet, I’m fine,” he assured her as they walked. 

“Only half of me will get wet,” Natasha countered. “It’s fine.” She’d shouldered her duffle bag on the way out of the car and was almost tempted to put the umbrella over it were it not waterproof. “Come on.” They walked fast, Clint getting out his keys in a delicate balance of holding food, a hoodie, his bag, and the keys. Clint was pretty used to it though, apparently, so he managed with relative ease. 

“Thank God this is fixed,” Clint told Nat as they got into the old elevator in the middle of the lobby, closing the iron gates before pressing 6. Two flights, three, no problem. Six after a full day of training was not going to happen for Clint, Natasha knew that all too well. 

A few minutes later they had left little rain puddles on the ground under them and Natasha wondered if she ought to come back and towel that off so no one slipped. She liked this building and the people in it for the most part and didn’t want anyone to get hurt. Still, they headed down the hall leaving their puddles in the elevator. Clint again balanced keys and accoutrement as he let them into the apartment. 

“Give me dinner,” Natasha said. “I’ll get it set out. You go get your tens unit set up for while we eat.” Clint had a little electric device that he could hook up to his back with guides to help keep it from getting bad. He went without arguing which meant he was hurting worse than he was letting on. Next to his place in the kitchen where his food was set out, Natasha put out two of his pain pills and a big bottle of water next to his bottle of beer. Clint came back downstairs shirtless and looking quite good if Natasha did say so herself. “Come here, let me get this on your back.” 

She ran her hands over his back, looking for the right spots to attach the electrodes. She couldn’t really screw it up too badly and it didn’t hurt even if you weren’t 100% on your placement. Really it was a do no harm situation. Clint clipped the little sensor to his pocket and other than that tried to stay still for Natasha. “Thanks.” 

“Done,” Natasha said patting his shoulder softly. 

“I think I just overdid it a little,” Clint shrugged. “New weapon, new movement patterns,” he reasoned. 

“Well that ought to help and I can work on your knots later if you want,” she told him. 

“Thanks, yeah,” he nodded turning up the power on his tens unit. He popped his pills and took down half the water before he even looked at his burger. That was the Clint equivalent of being a very good boy and she’d have to reward him for that later. Not a word was said about the pills, which he’d usually have tried to argue. “How about you? You took down the other half of the squadron. You hurting?”   
“Nothing a little smoke later won’t help with,” Natasha told Clint thinking to the leafy green goodness she had in her duffle bag. Of all people, it had been Coulson who’d turned her on to smoking marijuana to help with sleep. Natasha was distrustful of medicine but could put some stock in her strain as it was like nothing she’d experienced before coming to the US. They’d fed them drugs in the Red Room, of course. A little of this, a little of that, until you were the right kind of compliant. It had been two years before she could take a Tylenol and trust it. 

“Hey,” Clint reached out, squeezing her hand. “You ok?” 

“Fine… sorry,” she apologized looking down at her burger. She’d ordered a double jalapeño burger with extra cheese and it looked delicious. “Grab me a knife,” Natasha asked Clint who was right next to that drawer. He pulled one out and handed it to her so she could cut the gigantic burger in two. 

“Want to go halves,” Clint asked with a nod at his burger. He’d gotten a double burger too, but his was covered onion strings and barbecue sauce. 

“Yes,” Natasha nodded, always willing to try something new when it came to food these days. She set half of her burger on his plate and took half of his back to her plate. They both took their burgers rare so it was no hardship to swap a little with him. “Glad we got burgers,” she said before taking her first bite. They were relatively quiet as they ate, enjoying their burgers and the large order of fries they were splitting as rain pelted the windows. “Too bad we can’t sit outside,” she said with a sigh. Last week he’d brought home two folding chairs for the fire escape. They were nothing, really. Cheap plastic he got at the bodega at the corner, but he’d gotten one for her too and that had made Natasha lock herself in the bathroom for a solid ten minutes trying not to cry. 

She might be two full years out of the Red Room but they still had their hooks in her in a lot of ways. “I know,” he patted Natasha’s hand. “I like sitting on the balcony too.” Clint always called the fire escape the balcony, just another of his little ways of romanticizing the space, she presumed. 

“You can pick film for us,” Natasha told Clint. “Something silly.” 

“Black Comedy ok,” Clint asked. 

“That’d suffice.” They munched away at their burgers and sipped their beers just enjoying each other’s company for a little while as Clint got shocked. He went through two cycles of electrocution before he asked her to take off the leads. “You want your ice,” Natasha said half out of her seat already. 

“Not just yet,” he shook his head. “I need a breather.”

“Want to move to the couch,” she asked since they were both essentially done with their food. There were a few fries here and a bite of burger there but mostly they’d finished what they set out to, a testament to their hard work that day. “I can roll up that joint,” she said. “IT might help with your back.” 

“Yeah, excellent suggestion,” Clint told Natasha getting up with only a little hitch in his giddyaup. She followed, bringing the colbolt blue jar of salve she’d use on his back and her small box of necessities for getting the party started so to speak. Natasha stopped in the kitchen and got a hot bowl of water to sunk the salve in to make it nice and warm for him, walking everything back to the living room with ease. 

Clint had already turned on the movie, letting the beginning trailers play while he waited for her. He’d also gotten towels out and tossed them on the back of the sofa to avoid getting salve all over the cusions. She bought him some towels from a thrift shop specifically for this and had gotten him to use them after ruining one of her nicer blouses on his salve-stained sofa. A flip of the cushions and some towels later and they had a system. “Thanks for getting the towels out.” He’d also brought their drinks in. 

“Least I can do,” Clint told her tearing his attention away from a preview that was at least ten years old. It was a vintage film night then, Natasha thought as she proceeded to open her kit and take out the necessities for rolling a joint. “Can I start it or do you need to focus?”   
“Start it,” Natasha said with a dubious look. As though she couldn’t do two things at once. She could feel his eyes on her as she went about rolling the joint, careful to put even amounts in the whole way. She was probably going to smoke about half of it and Clint was good for most of the other half if he was hurting so she’d made it rather thick. 

“Big one,” Clint pointed out as she handed the joint off to him to start.

“It was a big day,” she teased running her hand over his back softly trying to notice any bulges or knots she needed to work on. “Someone got a new toy.” 

“I like it a lot,” Clint told her with a smile over his shoulder. 

“You look good with it,” Natasha told him honestly reaching into the water to take out the salve and test the temperature. “But you look sexy with just about any weapon,” Natasha told him with a little pressure from her thumb finding the first knot she needed to work on. 

“I like you with knives,” Clint told Natasha, reaching back to squeeze her knee softly. 

“Maybe not right now,” she teased. 

“Maybe not right now,” Clint agreed with a laugh that turned into a deep moan as she started to work that first knot of muscles with the pungent salve on her fingers. She made the stuff so she really shouldn’t complain. It was an old recipe she’d learned when she had bad bruises from training as a girl. She’d had to trade for ingredients and go hungry a little more often but she could get rest from her injuries and that was necessary to survive as much as a full belly sometimes. 

The movie started in the background and neither of them were really paying attention as Natasha started to work. She was methodical and merciless, telling Clint when he ought to take a puff just to help take the edge off. “There’s a big one under your ribs we need to deal with,” Natasha told Clint. “Take a couple more hits before I start there.” 

Like a good boy, Clint did as he was told and she didn’t have to argue with him. Sometimes he fought her on what was best, but today he was going with the flow. She’s have to try to figure out what was different today than other days. “Ok,” she asked as she worked apart some painful knotting in Clint’s side thinking there was some scar tissue there from an old stab wound. He always knotted up around it. “Pass that back,” Natasha asked letting him lay the joint between her lips so she could take a toke as she worked. “How’s the pain?”

“Not terrible,” Clint said moving a little since she’d picked her hands up. “How are your hands,” he asked turning in his seat to pick up her right hand then her left and slowly massage her palms with his thumbs. 

“Fine,” she lied, feeling like she was soaring above the couch when he did things like that. Clint often made her feel like she was her own person, like she mattered, and sometimes that was so new to her it was intoxicating. Clint, clearly sensing this, leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. Natasha let out a soft little sound, something real and unbidden, as his hand ran down her spine, cupping her close at the small of her back. 

Clint smiled, that soft country smile he got when he’d gotten his way and she thought to their conversation last night. What were here real noises? What _wasn’t_ crafted and honed into a weapon? “We really shouldn’t even bother with the movie,” Clint said with a laugh, moving his fingers to Natasha’s neck then all the way down her spine to the hem of her shirt. He pulled it off without asking, having long since earned that right in her eyes. 

“It’s good background noise,” she pointed out leaning in to kiss him again, climbing into Clint’s lap as the movie played on behind her. “You ok,” Natasha asked quietly as she ran her fingers down the center of Clint’s chest. 

“… I’m good,” he told her as he looked up, hands caressing her sides. Clint was a touchy-feely guy when you got close enough to him, not that many people would know that. His fingers bumped up the column of her spine to the nape of her neck, pulling Natasha in for another slow, deep kiss. His hands moved to her backside, pulling her in flush against him. “Better with you in my lap,” Clint told her when they broke the kiss, his lips moving to her throat. “I mean, that’s always better,” Clint teased. 

“I suppose I agree with you,” Natasha told him giving a little wiggle that got a soft, deep noise out of Clint. “It would be better with your pants off though.” 

“Yours too.” He squeezed her ass through the fabric of her pants, pulling her closer again. “But I’d have to let you go, which isn’t in the cards,” Clint said picking her up and laying her against the couch so he could hover over Natasha, supporting his weight on one hand easily. He knelt back and unzipped her pants in one easy move, giving them a tug until they were pooling around her ankles. Clint stripped her down to her underthings and then did the same with his clothes, moving a lot more freely as he did it if she did say so. 

“You’ve got to let go sometime,” Natasha pointed out. 

“I’ll burn that bridge when I come to it.”  
“I think the expression is cross… I’m going to cross that bridge when I come to it,” Natasha pointed out as she wrapped her thighs around his waist.

“Not how I do it,” Clint joked as he reached behind to undo her bra and divest her of the fabric. He leaned in to kiss her breasts one at a time, instantly mesmerized by them. Clint was, by far, a breast man. Or at least he was for hers and he spent a good long time caressing and kissing his way down her body. 

“How did this wind up with me on my back,” Natasha asked. “I had every intention of sucking you off like that.” 

“Rain check,” Clint asked from between her thighs where he’d already sent a few fingers to play with the fabric covering her folds. Natasha’s legs fell apart for him, knocking down one of his salve towels in the process. He tossed it on the floor and looked back at her with such focus and intent Natasha nearly called it off right then. He was so painfully earnest with her in moments like this and that scared the hell out of Natasha on her best days. Still, she stayed close because the alternative to believing him was too terrible a thing to contemplate. It was probably a terrible thing to have put most of her faith in humanity into one person but that was very much the case with Clint Barton and so far he’d done splendidly. 

First contact between his mouth and her body was always jarring. There was the wet on wet slide of tongue on her folds, but the temperature difference was enough to make her shudder. He always took a couple of drinks of cool water before he devoured her, a little Clint-ism she’d discovered after a few encounters. It didn’t last long once he got going but at the beginning it was a nice little bit of sensation play she hadn’t known she’d enjoy. Clint continued moving, adding in a little suction as Natasha’s head fell back onto the cushion with a soft groan. Something in her said: _Ok, now start with the moaning… touch yourself… touch him._ Directions from a long time ago trying to claw their way out. 

Instead of doing any of that, Natasha laid still a little too long, getting a look from Clint to check in. Was she alright? Natasha nodded a little and tugged on his arm, pulling him up for a kiss because that was something she could own. She’d kissed him first and still liked to surprise him with a fast peck behind some shelves at work. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize. I know that look.” Clint trailed a thumb between Natasha’s knitted brows, clucking his tongue. “That old shit, the voices…. they can be loud. But I think we can be louder,” he told her petting his fingers gently through her hair. “We don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to too. We can go back to the movie if you want.” Clint cupped her face, leaning in to kiss her soft and slow letting her know that the ball was in her court. 

She took a moment to think before she replied, knowing that was what Clint liked. A fast answer meant she was going with her gut which was also fine but he preferred her taking the time to think it out. What was more, he was a man used to waiting so giving her the time to work through things didn’t phase Clint Barton in the least. “I want to keep going,” Natasha told him cupping his face with both hands. “Just don’t go far ok?” 

“You’ve got it,” Clint told her as he petted down her messed up hair, pulling her back to sit in his lap like they had been before. The only difference was that now they were both totally nude and he was more than a little hard. She reached between them to change that up, lining him up between her folds as she rocked her hips. Two birds, one stone as far as Natasha was concerned and it felt good to have him stiffening there, pressing against her clit. “Fuck, baby,” Clint groaned holding her closer as she rocked a little more. When she reached down a few minutes later to move him, Clint was far harder and quite slick.

Natasha took him in hand and stroked him up and down while leaning in for another kiss to keep her lover from cursing again. It wasn’t that she didn’t like it, that was Clint’s genuine response so it was sexy as hell. It just kept on her mind his words about her own responses. What was real, what was Red Room? Two years out and she still struggled with it sometimes. When would that end, she wondered. Would she be an old woman still struggling with this? 

Natasha’s hand ran up and down Clint’s shaft pleased at how rapidly he filled for her. Clint had always been responsive and easily excitable in this arena at least. “Love that,” Clint told her and she kissed him once more, hoping to deserve the adoration he clearly pointed in her direction when they were in bed. Well, in bed and in the field. Clint, a man who would routinely be quiet for hours on end while stalking a mark couldn’t keep his mouth shut about Natasha in the field. Personally she thought that was half of how she’d developed half the reputation she had. 

“I’m ready,” Clint told her reaching between Natasha’s thighs to part her folds, knowing her body almost as well as she did. “Feels like you are too,” Clint said with a little smile, leaning in to nip at her shoulder while he rubbed her clit with sure, careful fingers. She let him do that for awhile, breathlessly riding against his hand while he did his best to please her. When she couldn’t take it any more, Natasha shifted forward, lifting her hips and positioning Clint the way she needed him before sinking back down his length. 

“Oh Clint,” she moaned softly, sinking down on him again and again after every rise of her hips. He held her hips, steadying Natasha as she moved. He looked quite comfortable leaning back against the cushions staring up at her. 

“That’s it, beautiful.” Clint liked to call her pet names in bed, tender things that made Natasha feel seen and adored in ways she hadn’t thought were applicable to her. “Keep that up. Fuck.” Clint kept one hand at the small of her back while the other moved around front to tease her clit. She let out a noise that surprised them both. “Ok,” Clint asked.

“Y… yeah,” Natasha nodded spreading her legs a little farther for him. Clint’s fingers found her clit again, rubbing as she rode him to a deeply satisfying orgasm. Clint encouraged her through it, continuing to rub her clit and call her names like ‘beautiful’ and ‘baby doll’. She came apart for him, crying out Clint’s name softly, eyes closed as she came for him. 

“That’s it beautiful, fuck. Keep going, baby doll.” Clint’s hands cupped her ass and Natasha kept riding him, knowing he was close. “I’m close, Nat.” His fingers ran down her cheek, cupping her face for another kiss. She’d often thought she could kiss him all day. Clint was an excellent kisser like he was excellent in bed, he was focused on her and what would arouse and entice Natasha. Before him Natasha was lucky if she got any foreplay at all. Though it wasn’t like she’d been looking for love. No, that had fallen in her lap. Neither of them were near ready to admit it but sometimes it was nice to think about, especially when he held her like this and filled the deepest, emptiest parts of her with him. She felt like she was racing toward something, becoming closer to real somehow in his arms. 

She found out long ago that Clint would hold her for as long as she let him with little regard to his own comfort. While she loved that and would take advantage of it sometime in the future, today she’d helped him unwind and worked on his poor back enough that she wasn’t going to push it. “Let’s clean up tomorrow,” Clint suggested as he wrapped his big arms around her, nearly squishing Natasha in a firm embrace. 

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” she shot back not moving off of him yet though she could feel him softening inside her. When he was too soft to stay, she shifted off of him and stood, offering her hand to help Clint to his feet. He stood, looking down at her with fond eyes Natasha could easily admit to herself she loved. They left the mess they’d made and headed to the bedroom near the back of the apartment. The rain was still coming down outside but it had gotten a little more intense. “Can we open a window,” Natasha asked. 

“The one on the end, just put the towel down in case,” Clint told her. She did as he suggested and as Natasha bent to fix the towel, she could feel his eyes on her body once more. “Already?” 

“Always,” Clint told her with that earnest country smile she loved so much she could scream. “Even if I’m down for the count, I can still please you.” 

“Please me by being the big spoon,” Natasha asked walking past him to get into bed. 

“It won’t last,” Clint said of the posture. They’d go back-to-back like they did every other night they slept together. 

“But we can try something new,” Natasha suggested holding the blanket up for Clint to climb in. He did and as requested he settled in to be her big spoon, seeming happy to do it despite his earlier point. “MMmmmmmm,” she closed her eyes and settled back into Clint listening to the sound of him settling in and the rain through the cracked window. It really was soothing and it took about ten minutes for Natasha to fall asleep that night, a rarity made rarer by her sleeping through the night. Clint was right, they did resort back to their prior sleeping patterns, but it was fine. It was comfortable. It was real.


End file.
